“Jesus,” Carson mutters. “Exaggerate much?”
“Just making a point.”
“No need.” Carson leans back and drapes his arm over the back of my chair casually. Both Romeo and Jason’s eyes narrow in on the move as the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall. It’s a small gesture, maybe he’s stretching, but it still drives my mind mad with wonder and sends my breath into erratic spurts as I try not to move an inch.
I don’t want to bump into his hand, assuming the worst, nor do I want the two pair of watchful eyes observing my reaction to Carson’s closeness. One look at my face and I know they’d be able to read me . . . easily.
And just like that, I feel so uncomfortable that my body heats up and I have an itch to squirm away. I wish I could be confident and collected when it comes to a crush—yes, a crush—but I have very limited romantic experience. Yeah, I’ve had a few one-night stands, but nothing that’s ever formed into a relationship, or anything even close to being touchy-feely, hand-holding, arm-draping, cute-kissing-against-the-wall behavior.
From behind, Carson reaches up and tugs on one of my braids. “What are you studying tonight?”
The tug on my hair, the position of his arm, the smell of his deodorant, him? It’s everything I’ve always wanted, everything I’ve searched for in a relationship, but I know he’s being kind, that his actions aren’t romantic, but instead fall in the friend zone. My face flushes as my body starts screaming at me to abort, abort.
And I listen.
Not answering his question, I abruptly stand, nearly knocking my chair out from under me. Like a robot, I scan the table and then the floor where I hitch my backpack over my shoulder and stiffly move away from the table.
“I need to go. Right now. I need to go right now. Okay, so, I’m leaving. Yup.” Because I am a masochist, just like the first time, I give them all a salute and then take off without looking back. Tears start to flood to my eyes as embarrassment consumes me.
Why do I have to be so awkward?
Why do I have to be this awkward . . . especially around Carson Stone?
Chapter Fifty
CARSON
“At least she didn’t shove a cookie in your mouth this time,” Jason says casually while biting into his sandwich.
“I kind of wish she did,” Romeo adds. “I had my phone ready the minute she tensed when he put his arm on her chair.”
I press my hand against my brow and sigh.
Jesus Christ.
She fled, muttering something about having to leave. Was it really my arm that scared her away? I’ve hugged her before, so an arm on the back of her chair really shouldn’t be an issue.
But Romeo is right, her entire demeanor changed the moment my arm landed on the back of her chair. She tensed, her body language reading get the hell away from me, and her eyes got very shifty, like she was looking for an escape route.
Am I really that repulsive?
“Aw, look at our boy, he looks sad,” Romeo says, pointing at me with his fork.
“It’s because he’s crushing on Milly big time and has no idea how to handle her.”
It’s true. I am completely clueless when it comes to Milly. My little gestures, my texts, the small, and I mean small, attempts to get closer to her when we’re together. I’m walking on thin ice whenever I’m around her, not wanting to push her too hard and not wanting to scare her away.
“She’s confusing.” I lean back in my chair and stare at the dining hall ceiling. “She’s seriously unlike any girl I’ve ever met and for the life of me, I can’t read her. It’s like she has a mask on at all times.”
“I hate to admit this, but I’m actually getting a little joy out of your discomfort,” Jason says with a smile.
“Thanks, you’re a true friend,” I reply sarcastically and stare at the lawn that leads to the dorms. I spot her walking slowly up the hill and before I can stop myself, I grab my bag and jog after her, Jason and Romeo both laughing as I take off.
I’ll hear about it at the loft later, how I’m a besotted jackoff who can’t seem to convince a girl to stay through half a meal with him. But the way my teammates see me is the last thing on my mind. I just need to get to Milly.
I fly down the stairs, past a few guys who call out my name in a hello. I toss them a wave but then jog up the sidewalk path toward Milly. It doesn’t take me very long to close the distance between us and when I reach her, I bump into her shoulder.
When I smile down at her, I catch the tears in her eyes and immediately pause.
Oh shit. Why is she crying?
She turns away, wipes her eyes, and starts walking faster.
“Milly, wait.” I catch up to her and pull on her shoulder so she has to face me. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . dusty out here.” She dabs at her eyes again. “I’m fine.” She crosses her arms and stares at the ground. “What’s up?”
Dusty?
I glance around at the never-ending expanse of grass that surrounds us, not an ounce of dust in sight. I step forward and tip her chin so I can see past those big glasses of hers.
“What’s really going on, Milly? Did Jason and Romeo say something? Did I do something?”
She glances to the side, unable to look me in the eyes. “No, it’s fine. Okay? Just let me go.”
Her body is pleading to leave, pushing forward, and I know she wants to be left alone, but deep down, I can’t do that. I can’t in good conscience leave her, so I step to the side, letting her walk to her dorm, but follow closely.
It takes her a few steps to realize I’m right next to her and when she does, she sighs. “Carson, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I answer casually and continue walking at her side.
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We fall in step together and when we reach her dorm, she finally faces me and says, “Then why are you following me?”
“Oh, I’m not following you. I’m actually going to visit someone in the dorms.”
“Really?” Her brow pinches together. “Oh, okay.” She presses her key card to the scanner and I follow her in. We reach the elevator and when we get in, she presses the button for the fourth floor and then asks which floor I need to go to.
“Four as well.”
Her frown deepens. “You’re visiting someone on the fourth floor? That’s a girl floor.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, one single brow raised.
“What?” she asks, stuttering. “No, I mean . . . no.” She shakes her head. “That’s not a problem.” She crosses her arms and stares at the elevator buttons. “Not a problem at all.”
You would think four floors were one hundred with how excruciatingly long it takes to climb, and the deafening silence from Milly doesn’t help. Wait. Does she think I’m visiting a girl on the fourth floor? As in, not her? She looks pissed off now.
Milly couldn’t possibly be jealous, could she?
Her body language speaks of jealousy, but I can’t get too excited about it because I could be wrong, I’ve been wrong about Milly before, and the last thing I want to do is jump to conclusions and scare her away . . . again.